


The Golden Eyed Serpent

by Keinna



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Naga Pitch Black (Guardians of Childhood), alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-03 02:31:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11522679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keinna/pseuds/Keinna
Summary: Jack cannot say what is more terrifying, the chanting of his captors or the looming mountain that grows ever closer.What truly sends shivers down his spine far worse than the biting cold is the reason why he has been tied up and thrown down, bruising and breaking his fragile skin. He is a merely a means to an end.A sacrifice.





	The Golden Eyed Serpent

**Author's Note:**

> Hi darlings, so uhm, I meant to get this out a long time ago, and it's been sitting unfinished for about a year now. I'm not happy with it, but I figured it's better to put it up rather than leave it forever unfinished in my pile of stories. I don't believe I will continue it, but perhaps I will.
> 
> Thank you for reading my silly little stories, I know I am not very good at being consistent but the good news is that this is technically finished at least.

Low chanting fills the valley as a small group of men walk along the frozen river toward a lone mountain. All wear dark cloaks with hoods obscuring their faces, heads bowed to the ground with only a few candles to light the way. Above the moon is absent in the sky as it always has been on this day, refusing to be a witness to the cruelty about to unfold. The singing never falters though muffled cries and whimpers accompany their words. None of the men are able to look at the one that is making such sounds, ignoring or perhaps, loathing the idea of peering into a pair of wild blue eyes and a tearstained face.

Twisting and writhing against the ropes biting into pale skin, the youth who is barely a man tries again and again to free himself. He is tied down to an elaborate stone tablet, one that is just large enough to fit on and is heavy enough for his capturers to struggle with in the snow. Still the men are nothing but determined, pace slow but sure as the mountain looms closer each time panicked eyes dare to look. He does his best not to, refusing to see his destination and focuses on freeing his hands to try to fight back. Try to do anything but allow himself to be left on a mountain to the elements and whatever might live there, animals or… Otherwise. All his efforts only bruise his fragile skin against the stone beneath him, the odd dips and sharp edges from the etchings making it an unforgivable surface. His limbs all have cuts of one form or another, blood dribbling onto the cold tablet and he begins to wonder if that is the design behind it.

Exhaustion seeps into his muscles while the cold settles deep in his bones and he finds it difficult to continue struggling. By the time he is taken to the base of the mountain, he can only manage shivers and a few tears. What bit of clothing he wears is hardly enough to keep out the bitter wind, a robe that ties around his waist and goes down to his knees with ripped sleeves to keep his arms uncovered. The chanting lowers into hushed whispers just underneath the breath and the group slows, the men carrying the tablet insuring not to lose their footing on the trek upwards. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, the youth yearns for a warm bed and the comfort of family he can barely remember. He regrets ever coming to this place and wonders what would have happened if he left the small village he stumbled upon. If he would have continued to walk until ending up in a bigger town, one that did not stare so much at his odd appearance of white hair, pale skin and bright eyes. If he could have made a life in some little town near the sea or perhaps even figured out how to live in a bustling city. Out of all the things to regret, never did he think it would be deciding to stay the night at a small inn. After losing his family and his home town being all but wiped out from a deadly sickness, he could not stand to stay in that home with the ghosts of the past. Never before has he longed so much for his mother’s voice, his sister’s smile and the firm hugs only his father could offer. Most of his home town merely tolerated him towards the end, he had always been looked at oddly for his white hair and pale skin but having such a sickness with no cure rampant and infecting so many, some began to whisper he was the cause. A plague that eventually left the town with no residents, him being the last one to leave after everyone else either left out of suspicion of the land itself being poisoned or died from the plague. But even their wary whispers would be far better than the harsh chantings that fill the air. 

The tears are back though slower than before, his eyes stinging and swollen from crying so much. He tries to take comfort, shallow and feeble as it may be, that he will be seeing them soon. How painful it may be until he sees that end, he does not know, but the young man prays to anybody that might listen that it will not be drawn out. 

He has no idea how long it is until the group comes to a stop again, all silent and the only sound is his ragged breathing. Sniffling, he pries his eyes opened and blinks up at the inky blackness that is the sky. Stone grinds against stone, the men struggling to lift up the tablet he is tied to onto a large altar that sits against a wall of the mountain. From what he can see, the altar is plain with the exception of a large carving that spans over a good portion of the mountain. He cannot make out the details until candles are placed into small glass lanterns that sit in the wall. His eyes go wide at the sight of many snakes, clustering and twisting around one another, writhing and looking so alive. Each have a pair of golden eyes that burn in the candlelight and none of them are comforting to gaze upon.

Moments go by before the ones that have taken him here start to leave, one by one, each bowed as they go, not turning their backs away from the carvings until they are well out of his limited sight. Only one remains standing, head still bowed as he steps forward with a handcarved chest and places it gently onto the ground in front of the altar. Weathered hands clasp together and moments go by until he too leaves in the same manner as the rest. 

Shivering on the stone, the panic beginning to claw at his throat and chest again, the young man attempts to struggle though the cold makes him ache in ways he never has. Burrowing deep underneath his skin to the bones and muscles underneath that twitch and spasm in feeble attempts of creating warmth. He loses track of time once more with nothing but the candlelight to keep him company and the too many golden eyes peering down at him. He figures that there must be gems of some kind in the caved snakes eyes to make them seem so alive. Sleepiness begins to overtake him, blue eyes starting to close and he hopes that if he is to die, it is this way. For the most part it will be painless minus the biting cold that eats at his toes and purpling fingers. Better at least than being torn apart. 

How long he drifts, he does not know, stirring at the feeling of something skimming over his body at random. By now he is so cold, body unable to keep from shaking uncontrollably, teeth chattering and his entire back has long gone numb. His fingers and toes are a foreign concept that he only is aware of when they are touched by a searing heat. Instantly he tries to keep the warmth to himself, fingers grasping weakly but it is gone in the next second. He finds it is too hard to open his eyes now, too exhausted and he is already beginning to float away again. The heat comes back to his hands, and suddenly blood is rushing back to his nearly forgotten digits, the rope around them gone then the gag in his mouth is removed. Wordless babbles are all he can manage to show his gratitude with his swollen and useless tongue. Fingers ruffle his hair then the bindings around his ankles are taken away as well and he is free at last. 

For a moment the disorientation and confusion is too much, all he can do is lay on the freezing, bloodied stone without an idea of what to do. It is when a bitter breeze slices through him that he realizes he is still shivering, worse than ever and tries to curl up on himself. Pulling his legs to his chest is a difficult movement, limbs jerky and heavy but he manages to tuck his face against the tops of his knees while keeping his arms close to his body. It is uncomfortable yet freeing, the idea of being able to move again and he debates on what to do, trying to think however is a sluggish and frustrating process. Where to go when the only town nearby is miles away and is the entire reason he ended up in this horrific position. If he could even make it in just a robe and no shoes to protect frostbitten toes from the crisp snow covering the entire valley. 

It dawns on him that the presence that freed him is lingering, looming over him. Probably waiting for him to take off in a sprint and start to scream for help or maybe for him to start crying while begging for his life. Both are impossible to accomplish when he cannot feel his toes beyond dull pain and wonders when that will stop as the frostbite spreads. The sleepiness from before begins to seep into him all over again, relaxing further on his uncomfortable resting place. What few stories he has heard about death, falling asleep in the cold is not the worst way to go. It can be peaceful, closing one’s eyes for the final time to slip into an eternal slumber without fear of feeling the pain when hungry predators descent upon the lifeless body. A weak smile tugs on his face, out of place among his tear tracks and swollen eyes, before he curls up tighter and decides to hurry along the process. He cannot help but think that if he falls asleep fast enough he will not feel the teeth or claws of whatever horror stands above him. 

Jack’s last thought before darkness is that he will be able to see his family again, and wake up to warmth rather than a cold moonlit night.

Pain cuts through him and he is forced awake in a cruel manner that has him crying out, thrashing against the hands on him. Everything burns in a way he cannot explain and feels that he is being thrown into a fire that laps eagerly at his skin, taking away the cold to be replaced by heat. Tears spring back into his eyes, clawing and writhing against the thing holding him. Words are being said against his ear, familiar but he cannot grasp them, only able to focus on the need to get away from the fire eating him alive. Seconds feel like hours but slowly, so, so, slowly, the burning leaves in small increments. Finally the boy manages to focus his eyes again, blinking out the tears in them to see that he is sitting in a pool of water that goes to his shoulders. Dim lighting in the form of candles are placed around the rim of the pool, giving enough light for him to see. His breath catches in his throat when something moves against his skin that is not water or cloth. Draped over his knees is a thick tail, deep black in color and made up of scales that are speckled with tiny points of silver on each one. He swallows and dares to really take in his surroundings, seeing the tail that reminds him of a snake is long and seemingly never ending, coiling around the pond and the tip that is pure silver, has curled around one of his ankles. His arms are pinned lightly against his sides, not by a tail but by a long arm that is greyish in color. Daring to turn his head and look to the owner of all these strange features, he finds himself staring into a pair of glowing eyes that have slitted pupils.

Frozen for an entirely different reason than the cold, heartbeat going faster and faster in his chest, Jack has no idea what to do. The idea of trying to escape seems pointless, not with feeling finally beginning to return to his body and that he is wrapped up in the coils of a literal serpent. Licking his cracked lips, it takes a few moments before words can form and he asks, “Are you going to eat me?”

Golden eyes blink at last and the being, male he thinks, scoffs and replies, voice thick in an accent he cannot place, “You would already be dead if that was my intention.” It is a weak comfort but one nonetheless as the boy sinks more into the warm water, curling his fingers into his palms and wiggling his toes. Nothing else leaves the male, the strange being taking a small saucer from the edge of the pool and dips it into the water to fill it before pouring it into his hair. Jerking at the motion, Jack frowns and tries to turn his head but can do no more with his body trapped. He is forced to endure the water wetting his hair and scalp, running down his face to burn his cheeks and nose. Unable to keep from wincing at the sensation, he grits his teeth to endure the odd treatment being bestowed on him. 

Not wanting to continue this silence, the youth asks another question, more hesitant and wary this time, “What are you…?” Never before has he seen, much less heard, of a man that is also a snake. 

“Naga would be the name your kind call my own. The golden-eyed serpent I believe is to be my name among the humans surrounding my territory.” Jack cannot keep from chuckling. While he has never heard of these things, the stone carving he had been laid out before and the sight of the creature holding him…. Suddenly he finds he can believe anything and everything he has questioned in the world. The chuckles morph into something ugly, laughter scraping out of his throat with an edge of hysteria. Tears try to spring back into his swollen eyes but he is far too tired to allow them to fall, shaking and being kept together by the very being he had been offered to as a sacrifice. 

The apparent naga says nothing, the boy able to feel the unblinking eyes on him as he falls apart all over again. Thoughts rush around too fast, crashing against the walls of his mind and none really make sense other than this is happening. He manages to sort through a few facts that only cause his panic to worsen.

He is stranded on a mountain in the middle of winter.

On said mountain lives a creature that is inhuman and a known living legend.

Said creature - naga - is worshipped by at least some humans who offer people to it. 

Slamming his eyes shut, Jack wishes he could go home. Never before has he missed his home so much or his family, nor has he ever had such regret over leaving the ghost town of his past. “I didn’t ask for this, I was just trying to find a place to fit in. To, to, make another home in.” The words come out without his permission and he finds himself rambling, breath picking up but he still speaks, “I just wanted to rest in that town. That’s all, I was aching from the cold and came across that little village. They all stared but I didn’t think. I was so tired so I asked for a room, I should have moved on, I should have-”

“You were chosen for my yearly offerings due to being a stranger with one of the most exotic colorings I have seen on a human.” Snapping his jaw shut, Jack turns his head, trying to ignore the shaking in his body to really pay attention to the creature in front of him. The fear is still real and clawing in his chest but he cannot help but think that this male is in fact gorgeous. 

His torso is bare, long and looking almost human if not for the lack of a belly button and the dark scales dusting around his waist, and rather than legs is a scaled tail. Around his shoulders are sprinkles of silver scales that shine in the low candlelight, little stars that shimmer and glow just like the golden eyes that watch him. Forcing his eyes to look at the face before him, Jack takes in the features of this male who holds his life in his hands. Regal is the only word that comes to mind to describe this creature, high cheekbones with sharp eyes and thin lips, thick black hair feathered back and wild, he is an odd mix. His face is the most human but there are hints of his true nature peeking through with pointed ears and black scales that line underneath his eyes, only making them more intense in color. Eyes the color of liquid gold with a pair of dark slitted pupils, peering back without moving appearing so alive. “You’re beautiful.” The words come out without him meaning them to and instantly he feels regret for saying that simple sentence. 

The naga blinks and seems surprised as well, head tipping to the side as those eyes flicker from one point of his face to another. “Interesting. What is your name, little human?” 

“Jack.” 

A smile, one that shows off long fangs that have him trying to shrink away but finding it impossible with the coils around him, is directed at him. “Jack…” The name is drawn out, slow and curious before a pleased look forms. “You’re rather unique yourself.” A statement that has Jack managing a weak little laugh in the back of his throat as he leans further into the water. He feels the previous panic dying down into nothing as he allows himself to be cradled in the arms of a creature that apparently takes humans as sacrifices. 

He feels exhausted yet the longer he is in this pool, the better he feels, his wounds being soothed by the warm water, seeping into every cut, scratch, bruise and further into his worn muscles. A cup is offered to him this time, different from the saucer that has been abandoned on stone side, one that he takes and sips from. It is sweet, reminding him of some of the fruits he and his sister used to pick, rich in flavor like a pomegranate. In the back of his mind he is aware that he could very well be consuming poison yet he finds it difficult to care now. Not when he is in the grip of what so many would call a monster, not with the knowledge that there is no help beyond these stone walls. The humans he had been hoping to make a home with, had been hoping to start anew after the deaths of all he holds dear have shown they do not care for strangers. A fact that makes him wonder if all are like that, if every village he would come across would have the same level of distrust and wary for his pale looks and being alone. “They left me with a monster that isn’t a monster… I don’t know what to think anymore, I thought I would be taken in.” His lower lip begins to tremble but he has no more tears to give at this point, he has cried them all.

“You have been taken in.” Blinking up to meet a pair of golden eyes, the naga watches him for a long moment before lips turn up into a smile. One that is oddly comforting, that even though he can see the peaks of razor sharp fangs, he has no fear. “I will shelter you.” The idea of being property has him frowning in return, managing to shake his head and not entirely sure if this is what he wants. If he wants to be little more than a pet for the feared creature on a mountain in the middle of nowhere. 

He manages a whisper, “What if that’s not what I want?” A question that has a look of surprise, then curiosity, head turning to the side and the arms around him are gone. It is terrible and freeing all at the same time, yet there is a crushing loneliness that the boy is not expecting, heart seizing in his chest. 

The next response is enough for him to feel far smaller than he ever has, “Then you may go.” And just like that, the naga is beginning to pull himself out of the water, leaving the human staring with too blue eyes. He has no idea what to think however he knows this is not what he wants, to be left on the side of a mountain after being treated so cruelly by his own kind. Jack does not think and reaches out so fast with unsure fingers that slide against smooth warm scales, not quite clutching but still desperate. 

“I thought I was supposed to be your sacrifice, to kill me or eat me, or do whatever it is you-”

“Perhaps. However you’re a gem among your kind, little one. You did not scream, did not kick, have not bargained for your life.” The words that the human had is gone, instead he can only stare as the inhuman continues, “Not to mention you may say that I am beautiful, however you are far lovelier.” The naga does not stop with his retreat and Jack finds himself not wanting to be left alone, his cheeks burning but he forces himself to speak.

“Don’t leave me.” The male stops on the ledge of the pool and turns his head around to meet his gaze. A question lays in those golden eyes, nothing more but the inhuman thankfully is no longer moving and instead is still. Waiting, Jack realizes. Wanting an answer or perhaps a further explanation and slowly he manages to get the words out. They are sticky in his throat and difficult to fully put together but once he starts to talk, he cannot stop, “I don’t want to be alone anymore. I don’t want to end up in another village that makes me feel unwelcome or that I’m something to be feared.” He swallows and curls up in the shallow water, hugging his chest and whispers, “I can’t tell you what I want, but I can tell you what I don’t.” There is a long stretch of silence before the water ripples and a clawed hand reaches out to his shoulder before another is there and he is pulled into an oddly warm embrace. One that should not be so comforting coming from a serpentine being but he falls into it, burying his face into a shoulder as his arms wrap around his strong neck. 

Fingers slowly move up into white hair, stroking the strands and untangling the knots before the accented voice states, “If that’s the case, I will keep you.” Those words are both a chain and a key, something that Jack realizes as he sinks further into the embrace. A chain of possessiveness, the words of an inhuman being that clearly is greedy to collect anything he deems to be unique or beautiful. Yet he does not feel caged, instead he feels free, this naga having the key to his freedom from an outside world that has never quite accepted him. “Pitch.” The word is strange and has him lifting up his head with a bewildered look as he meets the pair of golden eyes. “My name. Call me Pitch.” Such a strange name yet the younger figures he cannot judge when he is in the embrace of a naga of all things. 

Instead he tastes the name, “Pitch…” And the moment that he sees a blinding smile from the inhuman, all fangs and glittering serpent eyes, he knows it is over for him. He may not know this inhuman very well, but what he does know is that he has been saved from the bitter cold his own kind put him in. In the end he knows he may end up dead, he could upset the inhuman and have those long fangs in his throat, poisoning him or be crushed by a coiled tail. Yet he is aware that if not for Pitch, he would be frozen outside with no hope of any kind of life since he would already be dead. “Thank you.” 

The naga watches him before he is given a soft chuckle and arms tighten further around him, silver tipped tail coiling around his ankle again, “You’re welcome, Jack. Rest now.” A kindly demand that is so easy to follow, blue eyes drooping as the human curls closer, not sure where is future will go or what it will entail, but feeling far more certain than he has in a long time. 


End file.
